


He Does

by johnllauren



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Weddings, anyway take some sad gays at a wedding, i dont know if its fluff or angst or whAt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7575526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis Bonnefoy really, really wants a dress. Arthur Kirkland, his sworn enemy, really, really wants a date to his ex’s wedding. And hey, Francis will do anything for money, even if it means dealing with an Arthur who isn’t over said ex at all. </p><p>Fake dating doesn’t mean anything. They just have to pretend to be in love with each other. No actual falling in love involved, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

Francis flops down onto his friend and roommate Antonio’s bed. “I can’t believe I missed that fucking sale. How am I supposed to buy this when it’s, like, two hundred dollars?” He moans, holding up his phone to show a dress from some fancy online shopping website.

“Don’t you have a job?” 

“You know how shittily I get paid. Besides, I’m on vacation this week.”

Antonio nods for a while, and then his face lights up. “Do you happen to be free this Thursday? And for the rest of the weekend after that?”

Francis shrugs. “I mean, I haven’t got any plans.”

“Then I know how to make you some money.” Tonio grabs his phone and dials someone, typing the number in manually instead of from his contact list. He motions for Francis to wait a second before speaking into the phone.

“Arthur!” Tonio says cheerfully.

Francis’s jaw drops open and he looks at Antonio like he must be fucking insane.

“Hah, there’s no way I’m doing that for you. But I found someone who really needs money and I can probably get him to do it! Yeah I know, I’m the fucking best. Anyway here he is, you can thank me later!” He hands the phone to Francis without saying anything further.

“ _Salut,_ ” Francis answers.

“ _Francis? _” Arthur asks.__

__Francis rolls his eyes. “Hello to you too, Arthur. Now what do you want me to do?”_ _

__“Are you really on board with this?”_ _

__“I need money but I’m not desperate enough to turn to prostitution. So yes.” Francis says. “Wait, what even is it?”_ _

__Arthur sighs. “Did Antonio not tell you?”_ _

__“Why does Antonio know all of this? I thought you hated him as much as you hated me.” (Antonio throws a plastic water bottle at Francis’s head for this. Francis scowls at him.)_ _

__Arthur doesn’t say anything for a while. “Because I am, as you are, _really fucking desperate_ , and I need someone who doesn’t know Alfred that well.”_ _

__“I know Alfred practically by the back of my hand! Well, I know Matthieu by the back of my hand, but that kind of extends to Al too.” Francis interjects._ _

__“I know, I know. Listen, do you want to hear my proposition or not?”_ _

__Francis quiets down. “Oui.”_ _

__“Okay. This may sound quite… _out there_ , but I need you to just go with it if you want the money.” Arthur starts off hesitantly. _ _

__“You’re making this sound risky and illegal.”_ _

__“It sure as hell is risky, but it isn’t illegal.” Arthur tells him. “I need… I need a date to a wedding this weekend.”_ _

__Francis raises his eyebrows, and his mouth falls open. Antonio laughs his fucking ass off. Francis flips him off. “Are you asking me to be your motherfucking date? To a wedding?”_ _

__“I - yes. Yes, that’s what I’m asking.”_ _

__“Isn’t Alfred and Kiku’s wedding also this weekend?”_ _

__Arthur hesitates. “That’s the wedding I need a date to.”_ _

__“Why do you need a date to Al’s wedding? Isn’t he your best friend? Why would he judge you for being single?” Francis asks._ _

__“Because… because I’m… still not over him. And I think he knew that, so last month I lied to him and said I had a boyfriend. And there’s only so many excuses for Alfred not to meet him that I could use, and Al really wants me to bring my boyfriend to his wedding. Only thing is, I don’t have a boyfriend.” Arthur admits._ _

__Francis raises his eyebrows. “So you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend.”_ _

__“I… essentially, yes.”_ _

__“But you hate me.”_ _

__“I told you I was desperate.”_ _

__Francis exhales loudly. “Fine. Fine, I’ll do it. But I’m only in it for the money.”_ _

__“Of course. You know you have to pretend to date me for three whole days, right?” Arthur asks._ _

__“Oui, oui, I know. How much money are we talking about here?”_ _

__Arthur mulls it over. “I don’t know. Fifty bucks?”_ _

__“No way. At least two hundred.” Francis says firmly._ _

__“Francis, that’s insane.”_ _

__“We’re going by minimum wage rates and by the hour here. For two nights and most of the day on Saturday, that’s probably around two hundred.”_ _

__“Two hundred dollars for you pretending to date me is insane.”_ _

__“Two hundred or no deal.”_ _

__Antonio is doubled over on Francis’s bed, his fist halfway in his mouth so he doesn’t guffaw while Arthur is on the phone. Francis almost glares at him, then decides against it. It wouldn’t be worth another water bottle to the head._ _

__Arthur huffs into the phone. “You know what? Fine. I’ll give you your two hundred dollars if you can actually do a good job of pretending to be my boyfriend. And you have to come up with a backstory.”_ _

__“A backstory?”_ _

__“People are going to ask how we got together. And also why we kept it a secret for so long.”_ _

__Pretending to be Arthur’s boyfriend? Coming up with some bullshit story about how they fell head over heels for each other? Making up a lie about how they were scared to tell their friends they were dating? Easy peasy. Francis has that dress in the bag._ _

__“D’accord, I’ll do it.” Francis concedes._ _

__“Excellent. I’ll swing by your apartment Thursday before Al’s bachelor party to pick you up so that we get there together. But keep in mind I have to be there early to help Matthew with everything. So I’ll be outside at 7:45 on Thursday. We can work out times for Friday and Saturday later, I suppose, since we should really be early for both of those things but not too early…” Arthur trails off. He almost sounds nervous. Which is insane. Francis has never heard Arthur be nervous._ _

__“It’s alright, Arthur. You’re in good hands. I am the best boyfriend, after all.” Francis says, not even caring if he sounds cocky._ _

__Arthur scoffs. “You are not the best boyfriend. I’m the best boyfriend by far!”_ _

__“Really? Says the man who hasn’t dated anyone in two years because he’s too hung up over that over-excited puppy American.” Francis bites._ _

__Antonio hollers in the background. “Do you need some ice, Arthur? Because you just got _burned!”__ _

__Arthur doesn’t respond for a while. Francis can tell he’s gone a little bit too far this time, but the damage is already done. When Arthur does speak, he sounds more reserved than he did a minute ago. “Like you’ve been dating anyone recently.”_ _

__“I like to keep my options open,” Francis responds. “A few romantic flings, some one night stands, as one does.”_ _

__He can almost hear Arthur roll his eyes. “Because that’s the definition of romance.”_ _

__“Arthur, I’ll have you know I am an _excellent_ lover.”_ _

__Antonio bangs against the wall with his fist while he tries not to laugh. He ends up failing at not laughing and crumbling into a laughing mess. Francis wonders if Arthur can hear him._ _

__Arthur coughs. “You know I don’t care for those intimate details of your… private life.”_ _

__Francis just laughs. “Okay, _sure.”__ _

__He scoffs, quickly changing the subject after that. “So you’re game for the wedding?”_ _

__“Oui,”_ _

__“Okay. Okay, excellent. I’ll see you Thursday.”_ _

__“À plus tard, Arthur.” Francis hangs up._ _

__Antonio looks at him like he has three fucking heads. Francis looks back, confused. “What?”_ _

__“You’re doing it?”_ _

__“Of course I’m doing it. I _need_ that fucking dress.” He explains._ _

__Antonio laughs out loud. “I didn’t think you would stoop that low. I mean, Arthur? Really? You fucking hate him.”_ _

__“Maybe, but you know what I love? This dress.” Francis pulls the image up on his phone again and shows it to Antonio._ _

__“Still, is it worth pretending to date Arthur for three days?”_ _

__Francis shrugs._ _

__“You have to kiss him.”_ _

__

__“ _Merde._ ”_ _

__“Exactamente.”_ _

__“Maybe I can get out of kissing him. Maybe we can be one of those couples who doesn’t like to engage in, what do you call them, public showcases of affection.” Francis bargains._ _

__Antonio rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Both you and I know you can speak English perfectly fine. But didn’t you say you wanted to be the perfect boyfriend?”_ _

__“Well, I, yeah.”_ _

__“‘Perfect boyfriends’ don’t completely ignore their significant other. I expect that said perfect boyfriend would be making grand gestures of affection at all times.” Antonio teases, wiggling his eyebrows._ _

__Francis curses again. “I did make a bet with him. Didn’t I?”_ _

__

__“You did, and in doing so you completely screwed yourself over.”_ _

__Francis throws a pillow at him. “It’s only a weekend, and I get two hundred bucks from it. It’ll be fine. I’ve missed dating people, anyway.”_ _

__“Are you saying that you’re actually looking forward to dating him?”_ _

__“I’m not going to be be dating him! It’s just a fake daring thing. But, you know, it might be nice to, you know. Hold someone’s hand and kiss them. It makes you feel safe.” Francis says._ _

__Antonio shakes his head. “You haven’t even started dating him yet and you’re already head over heels.”_ _

__“I’m just a _romantic person_ , Antonio. You should learn how to be one someday.” Francis tuts._ _

__“I am a very romantic person!” Tonio protests._ _

__“How many years have you been pining after Lovino? Without telling him?” Francis asks._ _

__Tonio presses a hand to his chest, looking offended. “Hey! I’m just… waiting for the right time. That’s all.”_ _

__“Sure.”_ _

__Tonio shakes his head and laughs, tossing the two pillows Francis threw at him back onto his bed. Francis refuses to give him back his water bottle, taking a swig and finishing the whole thing in one go instead. Antonio yelps in protest, but Francis just tosses it into the recycling bin on the other side of their room (and misses)._ _

__“What are you wearing Thursday anyway?” Tonio asks._ _

__Francis’s face falls. “Shit.” Is all he says._ _

__“I thought you told me you had your entire wardrobe planned out for the whole weekend?”_ _

__“I did. But now I have to make sure that I’m matching with Arthur and that he knows what color tie to wear. Do you have any idea how fashion savvy he is? The answer is that he’s not. Whatsoever. The only person he’s better than at fashion is, like, Vash.” Francis shakes his head._ _

__“I didn’t know you paid attention to what Arthur wears.” Tonio raises his eyebrow._ _

__Francis tries to explain and ends up stuttering. He tries again. “I don’t exactly pay attention to it. But what about that time he wore a neon purple button-down underneath a puke green knitted sweater? I feel like it’s my duty as a humble gay-”_ _

__“- Francis, dear, there’s nothing humble about you-”_ _

__“- Shut up, Tonio, that is rude. Anyway, it is my duty as a humble gay to make sure that the rules of fashion aren’t being offended. Macklemore didn’t die for this. Macklemore didn’t die so that Arthur Kirkland could wear fashion fucking catastrophes every single day.” Francis moans._ _

__Antonio rolls his eyes. “Macklemore is not dead. You’ve made me google that way too many times.”_ _

__“That is not the point. The point is that Arthur cannot wear a hideous sweater to the fucking wedding or I will kill him while he sleeps.”_ _

__“He wouldn’t be able to. Alfred and Kiku picked out the suits for the groomsmen to wear, remember? He has to wear the same thing you’re wearing.” Tonio pauses for a minute to think things over. “Well, for the actual wedding, anyway.”_ _

__Francis groans. “That leaves the bachelor party and the rehearsal dinner for him to wear whatever he wants.”_ _

__“Everyone at the bachelor party is going to be far too drunk to realize what Arthur’s wearing. And as for the rehearsal dinner, I don’t think he would want to embarrass himself as much as he usually does when it comes to fashion. At least, I don’t think he would.” Tonio nods. “Yeah, you should probably check that he’s gonna wear something good-looking for the rehearsal dinner.”_ _

__“This is becoming more of a chore than I thought it would be.”_ _

__“Hey, you wanted two hundred bucks, you’re earning them.” Tonio reminds him._ _

__“Yeah, but it wasn’t supposed to be this hard.”_ _


	2. Thursday

[7:42:10 PM] Arthur: I’m outside.

[7:44:20 PM] Frog: i’m not done getting ready yet

[7:44:33 PM] Arthur: i’m going up to your apartment

[7:45:52 PM] Arthur: tell Antonio to let me in

[7:46:02 PM] Arthur: Francis we’re going to be fucking late 

“I’m coming, I’m coming, merde!” Francis exclaims, opening the door to let Arthur in.

Arthur shakes his head. “It’s about damn time.”

“I was busy getting ready.” Francis flips his hair. “You know, this kind of perfection doesn’t happen in five minutes.”

“I know, because you had me waiting outside.” Arthur says, rolling his eyes. “Couldn’t you have gotten Antonio to let me in?”

Francis shrugs. “He and I were busy fighting over the blow dryer.” 

“Hola, Arthur! Have fun dating Francis!” Antonio calls from the bathroom, over the sound of the blow dryer. 

Arthur scowls in Antonio’s direction, though it’s not like Tonio can see him. Francis just laughs. “Allons-y, Arthur. We have a party to get to.”

Francis looks at Arthur, really looks at him, for the first time that night. Arthur’s wearing… you guessed it, a baby blue button down and a beige sweater over it. At least he’s wearing semi-fashionable khakis, but they look like he’s been wearing the same ones as “dress pants” for five years. Francis wouldn’t put it past him. He’s paired the look with old brown loafers and his hair looks like its normal uncleaned mop. 

Francis, on the other hand, is cleaned up. He’s wearing a suit and a tie, blue to match his eyes. His hair is blow dried and curled perfectly, if he does say so himself. It looks like he’s actually made an effort to look good, unlike Arthur. But there’s no time, they’re about to be late. So Francis says nothing and follows Arthur into his car.

“We’re going to be so fucking late,” Arthur mutters. 

Francis shrugs. “We aren’t gonna be late, we’re gonna be late for being ridiculously early. It’s going to be okay, Arthur. The bar is only, like, five minutes away from here by car.”

“We’re going to be so fucking late.” He repeats.

“Arthur, calm yourself. It’s called being-” Francis flips his hair over-dramatically while saying this, “fashionably late.” 

Arthur rolls his eyes. The rest of the car ride is spent in silence, and Francis suspects it’s because Arthur is annoyed at the thought of being late. They aren’t even late, just a little bit later to the party than Matthew wanted them to be. They still get there crazy early, anyway.

“Matthew!” Arthur calls as he all but runs into the bar room Matthew reserved for the bachelor party. Francis is following at his tails, but he isn’t running. He can’t mess up his hair this early into the party.

“Arthur, thank God you’re here.” Matthew says. “Oh, you’ve brought Francis, too. Bonjour, Francis!”

“Bonjour, Matthieu.” Francis says, finally striding up to Arthur and lacing his arm around Arthur’s back. Arthur’s muscles all tense slightly at the touch, but after a while he relaxes into Francis’s arm. “Oui, Arthur and I are, ah, dating.”

There’s a moment of shock during which Matthew says nothing, just kind of stares at them. Then his face lights up. “It’s about damn time!” He exclaims. “Everyone was waiting for you to announce it. I mean, there’s always been speculation, but then Al told everyone you said you had a boyfriend, and then everyone freaked out. We all knew it was you, Francis. But also, I’m gonna make so much money tonight.”

“What, why?” Francis asks.

Arthur catches on immediately. “Did you fucking bet on us?”

 

Matthew shrugs. “I mean, everyone we know has been trying to get you two together since forever. It only makes sense that eventually a bet would be taken up, and you know how that goes…” He trails off.

Both Francis and Arthur’s eyebrows are raised. “When did this start?”

“Oh, I dunno…” Matthew’s face reddens. “Ludwig’s twenty first birthday party? The one Gil threw for him in that bar? When everyone got super smashed?”

“Matthew, that was two years ago.” Arthur says.

“I know.”

“Who started it?” Arthur grills Matthew while Francis just sits back, bemused. He finds this fucking hilarious, even if Arthur is outraged. 

Matthew smiles, embarrassed. “Me and Alfred?” He says it like it’s a question. 

“The two… okay, no, the one person we thought wouldn’t be in on betting with other people.” Arthur sounds disappointed. Matthew almost rolls his eyes.

“Have you forgotten that I lived with you and Francis for over a year? You two fought like an old married couple every single day. I’ve been bribed to film you two, just so everyone has more material.” Matthew says. 

Arthur cringes. Francis, without thinking, lays a hand on Arthur’s arm comfortingly. Arthur doesn’t exactly have fond memories of that apartment. Francis does, though. But that isn’t important.

Arthur sighs. “I can’t believe you’ve all been betting on us.”

“Hey, if it’s any compensation, I can give half the money I’ve just won to you two as your wedding present.” Matthew suggests (Francis chokes). “Five hundred is a lot of money for a wedding present.” 

“You’ve made one thousand dollars on us?” Francis asks.

Matthew nods, grinning.

“Part of me is proud of you and part of me wants to kill you.”

Matthew mock salutes. He’s about to say something, but then there’s a loud crash. “Shit - Kumajiro!” And then he’s off across the room, since his dog has just knocked something over. At least, Kumajiro is supposed to be a dog. Technically, he’s Matthew’s licensed Emotional Support Dog, which means he’s a confirmed dog; everyone who’s met him is convinced he’s a fucking bear.

“Should we help him with that?” Francis inquires.

“I can’t believe our bloody friends have been betting on us!” Arthur exclaims. “We aren’t even dating! A thousand fucking dollars, holy hell.” 

Francis shrugs. “Let them have their fun. Didn’t we bet on Feli and Ludwig years ago?”

Arthur stutters a few times. “I mean - I guess.” He falters. “Come on, let’s go help Matthew.”

Francis laughs, and is promptly elbowed in the chest. 

 

Many hours and countless glasses of alcohol later, the entire party is smashed. “The entire party” being their whole extended group of friends (minus Ludwig, Feli, Lovino, and Antonio - they’re at Kiku’s “bachelor party.” He didn’t want fanfare, just a quiet night in with his closest friends. And that’s what he got). 

Matthew was very freaked out about the whole party until about twenty minutes ago, when his boyfriend Gilbert convinced him to just sit back and have a drink. Now he’s much more relaxed, and also much more drunk. Gil is sitting at the bar with Elizabeta on one side of him and Matthew on the other. He has one arm lazily wrapped around Matthew and is involved in a drinking competition with Liz using the other (she’s winning by a landslide). 

The other partygoers are similarly too drunk to be rambunctious as well, and most of them are just sitting with their friends or dates. Francis scans the booths at the bar and finds multiple people messily making out, including Heracles and Sadik (they make out every time they get drunk and have yet to get together, much to everyone’s chagrin). He tries not to roll his eyes.

Francis sticks with the small group of people who aren’t completely drunk off their minds. But he can’t help but look for Arthur every so often, making sure he’s okay. Eventually, Francis just goes off to check on him.

“Arthur?” Francis inquires. Arthur has moved himself from chatting with Alfred to sitting at the edge of the bar, alone. He’s ordering a drink from the bartender.

Arthur looks up. “Francis?” His voice is weird and slurry, like he’s had way too much to drink. Francis should’ve known; he should’ve been keeping a lookout for Arthur this whole time and making sure he didn’t drink too much. Not because Francis likes Arthur - god knows he hates the guy. But they are, after all, “dating.”

“How much have you had to drink, mon chou?” Francis sits down on the empty bar stool next to Arthur.

“Does it matter?” Arthur asks, looking over his shoulder. Francis turns around to see what Arthur is looking at, but it’s just… Alfred. That’s it.

Francis nods. “Of course it matters, Arthur. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

 

Arthur nods his head back at Alfred. “You know what’s wrong.” He says, “Look at him. He’s so goddamn happy. Talking about Kiku. That’s all he’s been talking about, all night. I tried to talk to him but I just… couldn’t. And now he thinks I’ve moved on or something, like I’m so head over heels for you. Fuck, Francis.” 

Francis rests a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Let’s get you home, okay? You’ll feel better once we’re there.” He’s a veteran when it comes to dealing with people who happen to be drunk off their minds. 

Francis and Arthur walk - rather, Francis walks and Arthur half-walks and is half-carried - over to Matthew. Matthew looks confused at the sight of them, which, honestly, he should be. “Arthur? What’s wrong?”

When Arthur doesn’t answer that, Francis answers for him. “He had a little too much to drink. I know we promised to help you clean up, Matthieu, but I really have to get him home.” 

Matthew nods. “Of course, of course, that’s fine. Goodnight Francis, Arthur. You know, I’m really glad you two are dating. Even with the bet thing aside, you really are perfect for each other.” He smiles. 

Francis blushes, and he’s pretty sure Arthur does, too. If only Matthew knew they aren’t actually dating. But instead of spilling, Francis just thanks him and says goodnight once again, helping Arthur over to his car. Arthur is clearly in no shape to drive home, so Francis deposits him in the passenger seat and takes his keys from him.

A few moments into the ride, Francis can hear sniffling. “Arthur, are you alright?”

Arthur shakes his head. “Fucking Alfred, and he’s getting married which means he’s moved on from me and I know it’s been years but I don’t think I could ever completely get over him. He’s so fucking happy with Kiku and I will never be able to have that with him now because he’s getting fucking married. I… you know, I thought it would be easier once he gets married because then he’ll really be out of my reach. But it’s just harder.” He pauses. “Fuck, and now I’m drunk crying in front of you and making some big fool of myself when I’m supposed to be trying to impress you. Fuck.” 

_Impress him?_ Francis raises his eyebrows but says nothing about it. “I know, Arthur. We can’t make Alfred go back on getting married. But all you have to do is get through this weekend and then you don’t have be around him for a while. You can lay low and eat ice cream if you want.” 

Consoling Arthur is weird. Not that Francis minds doing it, but he hates Arthur. Arthur hates him. So driving him home and comforting him while he cries is not something Francis anticipated doing. The fact that Arthur is drunk and not entirely in charge of his emotions helps, but it’s still quite strange. 

“I don’t even know if I still _like_ him!” Arthur exclaims. “I can’t tell if I’m hung up on him because I want to fuck him or because I’m too afraid to admit that I’ve moved on. I mean - I’ve liked him for a while. So what if I don’t like him anymore? What if I actually like someone else and I’ve just been too pigheaded to admit it? Fuck, all this is far too confusing.”

Francis mock gasps. “Did Arthur Kirkland just finally admit his pigheadedness? Pinch me, I’m dreaming.” 

Arthur smacks Francis’s arm. “Shut up, Frog, I’m having a crisis here.” 

Francis nods. “ _L’amour_ is confusing, Arthur. You just have to follow your heart.”

Arthur scoffs. “Yeah, leave it to you to make it all romantic and sappy.” He doesn’t sound entirely annoyed, but that might be due to the fact that he sounds like he’s crying.

“I told you, I am the best at romance.” Francis reminds him.

“You really aren’t helping.” 

“Sorry.” Francis turns his attention back to the road. He makes a somewhat sniffly Arthur direct him to Arthur’s apartment. “Would you like me to carry you in, bridal style?” 

“I thought you wanted to survive the night.” 

“Fine, fine, be like that.” (But he still opens the door for Arthur). 

After trying and failing to unlock his own apartment’s door, Arthur offers the key to Francis, admitting defeat. But Francis declines the key and produces his own key from his own key ring. He unlocks the door. 

“You still have that?” Arthur asks. Years ago, when Arthur moved into this apartment, he gave the spare key to Francis. He justified it with a multitude of reasons, but they don’t really matter. What matters is that he gave Francis the key. And Francis still has it.

“Of course.” Francis replies. “You know, just in case.”

Arthur nods. “Just in case.” 

Francis lets Arthur into the apartment first. He stands in the doorway for a second, taking the apartment in. He remembers helping Arthur move in. Nobody else would, so Francis did. The furniture is still the same, still in their original places. “It’s still the same.”

He nods again. “I quite like it like this.”

Francis scans the place. He smiles at the single framed photo on the wall unit; the one Alfred, Matthew, Francis, and Arthur took the day they moved in together. Alfred and Matthew are still boyish and baby-faced, fresh after being kicked out by their parents. They’re still smiling, though, grinning wildly. Francis and Arthur almost resemble proud parents. Arthur is looking up at the huge construction paper eyebrows Alfred taped on his face five seconds before they took the picture. Francis is laughing at the way Matthew tied his hair up in a kind-of-but-not-really manbun. They look happy. 

“I forgot we took that.” Francis remarks.

Arthur is on his couch with a blanket wrapped around him. “I’m okay now, Francis. You can go home now, if you want.”

Francis shakes his head. “I can’t leave you alone like this.”

“I’m not alone. I have Alice.” 

“A cat is not equivalent to a person.” 

Arthur falters. He says nothing for a while. “Fine,” But he doesn’t sound mad.

Francis makes his way into the kitchen and pulls out a tub of ice cream and two spoons. Arthur raises an eyebrow at him, but he just opens the container and hands Arthur a spoon. “Eat your feelings.”

Arthur rolls his eyes but doesn’t object.

“I’m going to go call Antonio, okay?” Francis pretends he doesn’t see Arthur’s face contort in hatred at the mention of Antonio’s name. He walks out of the room to remain out of Arthur’s earshot.

“Francis?” Antonio answers.

 

“Salut, Tonio. Listen, I’m staying over at Arthur’s tonight, okay?” 

Antonio whistles. “One night of dating and you’re already getting some!”

“No, no, it’s not like that. He got really drunk at the party and he’s crying over Alfred and I decided I couldn’t leave him here alone.” Francis explains.

“I’ll never understand your relationship with that man. You hate him, yet he knows you like no other and vice versa.” Antonio says. “Anyway, have fun with him. If you know what I mean.”

Francis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and you finally pluck up the courage to fuck Lovino.”

Antonio laughs into the phone and hangs up. 

Arthur is doing slightly better when Francis walks back in. He’s eating ice cream and his crying has slowed down and Alice is sleeping next to him. Francis treads lightly after that; Alice is a satan cat who only likes Arthur and nobody else. He chooses to sit on the other side of Arthur, even though he isn’t very far away from satan cat.

The television’s on, some weird black and white detective show. Francis remembers Arthur watching a lot of those. Speaking of, he’s completely invested in the plotline already. Francis just leans back into the couch. 

Before the show’s even over, Arthur is leaning on Francis, asleep.

Francis removes the more than halfway eaten ice cream container from Arthur’s lap and places it on the table in front of them. He stands, carefully removing himself from Arthur, and scoops the smaller man into his arms. Arthur stirs, but Francis shushes him and carries him into his bedroom.

Arthur’s bedroom happens to be very un-Arthurlike. It’s an absolute mess, a sharp contrast from the rest of the house. The only part of it that’s clean is Alice’s bed. Francis walks in nonetheless, careful not to step on any of Arthur’s clothes that are strewn around the floor. 

“Bonne nuit, mon lapin.” Francis says gently, placing Arthur on his bed and covering him with a blanket.

Arthur’s eyes flutter open for a fraction of a second. He reaches up to grab onto Francis’s wrist. “Stay. Please.” He mumbles.

Francis nods. “I’m not leaving, just going back to the couch is all.”

Arthur shakes his head. “Here. With me. I… please.” 

Any sane version of Francis would say ‘no way’ and then get the fuck out of Arthur’s apartment. But this version of Francis, the one who’s fake dating Arthur, doesn’t resist at all. Hell, he can’t even tell if we wants to resist (actually, he can tell. He doesn’t.) 

Perhaps tomorrow Francis will claim he fought Arthur more before giving in, but as for right now? Francis climbs into the bed beside Arthur. 

Arthur curls into Francis almost immediately (Francis almost wants to use the word _cuddles_ ). Francis wraps an arm around him gingerly. Arthur murmurs something about this being just like old times. Francis nods.

“Bonne nuit, Arthur.” Francis whispers.

Arthur’s already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this on my phone on a car ride back from pennsylvania so i hope i edited it well enough

**Author's Note:**

> some of the spacing is messed up but i screwed around with ao3 enough today and im not fixing it


End file.
